Grains of Sand
by peroxidepest17
Summary: Hiei is strong.


**Title:** Grains of Sand  
**Universe:** Yu Yu Hakusho  
**Theme/Topic:** Badass Hiei  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Character/Pairing/s:** Hiei, vaguely KuramaxHiei  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** Not anything specific.  
**Word Count:** 999  
**Time: **FOREVER, so you know, I lost count.  
**Summary:** Hiei is strong.  
**Dedication:** Ann- Haha YYH is so hard to write. Sorry it took so long! And that it sucks! ;; **  
A/N:** ARGH I SUCK. TOTALLY UNEDITED.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, though I wish constantly.  
**Distribution:** Just lemme know.

* * *

Bodies in piles around him, bits and pieces of steaming flesh twitching in his hair and on his clothes—it's been a long time since he's felt a rush like this, since he's been able to smile and slash like this.

They're all weaker than him, and maybe that's the only rub in the end. It's like wind sweeping over an empty dessert, the tiny grains of insignificant sand kicked aside in its arcing path.

Fall where they may and he pushes on as easy as nature had intended.

Ultimately however, it's not as satisfying as he would have hoped, and when he ends, caked in blood and breathing as evenly as if he had walked the whole way through, he can't help but feel a twinge of regret, can't help but long for days past and the ferocious battles that destroyed his body just enough that it could rebuild itself up to something stronger than it had been before.

But that's neither here nor there, perhaps. So many battles and so much blood, it was only a matter of time before he ended up like this, too strong maybe, to be destroyed so easily.

Not many can challenge him.

Some will of course—in great numbers or trembling, hoping for a lucky hit—but the sensation of challenge seems lost to him now, as if he climbed to the top of this mountain on the bones of others and was surprised to find himself as alone as he'd become when he'd reached the peak.

Someone once told him that there were things in this world and indeed, in every other, that were more important than strength.

He doesn't quite know what that person had been getting at when they'd said that. All he knows is that he misses the challenge… the rush of uncertainty and the pounding of his own heart when he bursts through and doesn't know if he or the person opposite from him is the one who will emerge in the end.

The flush of battle has lost some of its virgin luster maybe. He's become jaded.

Nostalgic even.

He remembers one particular thrill, long ago. The smell of child flesh and the pulse of something deeper, brilliant flashes of red and green so cunning they—and that infernal whip—had cut deep into his arm, his leg, his cheek, until the two of them both were left exhausted and panting on their backs, respect and friendship and rivalry more permanent than any of the scars they'd imparted upon one another.

He remembers that particular rush all too well.

One of the ones who'd helped him climb this mound, taunted and challenged him but never once let him slip on the carcass of any enemy all the same.

"_Stay on your toes, Hiei. I would hate to test you one day and succeed in making you fail."_

Infuriating words said with sparkling eyes—not a warning so much as a simple truth.

Kurama was a strong one too, after all.

But he'd found something more important than strength maybe, to aspire to. And while Hiei isn't sure he understands it exactly, he respects it.

Because even still, Kurama has not let his philosophies let him get weak, hasn't let whatever warm and fuzzies he feels soften the scars on his body or the keen edges of his senses.

Just because one's ultimate aim isn't to be strong doesn't mean he should let himself be weak, after all.

Maybe one day he'll chance to ask his friend why he chose that path instead of this one, about those important things he's always jabbering on about.

It's just that when they do see each other talking is very usually the last thing on Hiei's mind, their eyes meeting and a split second later weapons clashing in heady greeting.

Ten years since that last happened, maybe more, and Hiei wonders when the next time will be, can't help but think that maybe he misses that.

These fools are nothing—filth at his feet and scattered just as haphazardly as dust by the end of his blade. Their blood feels dirty on his skin.

Kurama would have laughed at him over this, amusement twinkling in big green eyes. _"You're the one who wanted to fight them, weren't you?"_—he can hear the voice, the exact way the words would be said. _"Isn't it your own fault for expecting anything spectacular from them, then_?"

"_What would you have me do then_?" he thinks, and wonders what it is about Kurama that always has him anticipating like this, stupid conversations planned out and mapped ahead of time with the same precision as any battle against his old friend might.

Kurama would smile then— he can see it in his mind's eye-- calm and serene and wicked all over. _"Why, find someone you know wouldn't disappoint, of course_."

"Hn."

It's annoying to even think about it, though he supposes Kurama is right even if he isn't here. Would be right, if he was.

Why bother with these helpless grains of sand at all?

As if to prove his point he slashes air in front of him with his blade and that alone is enough to rend several opponents (and rocks, and trees) in half.

They die without a sound and the pieces hit the dirt with a splatter, a spectacular show of the mundane.

His own fault maybe, for expecting something more.

Time to remedy that.

He sheathes his sword then, shakes off some of the blood and flesh bits off his body. They catch the breeze and float along it for a while before fluttering in steaming pieces to the ground. He smiles to himself in anticipation, turns his gaze momentarily skyward to the place where he knows there's a hole in the world.

Ten years is long enough away to warrant a visit, he supposes.

He hast to make sure Kurama hasn't let himself go in the meantime, after all.

**END**


End file.
